


Don't Shoot the Messenger

by handsometabbyc



Category: Smokey and the Bandit (1977)
Genre: Crossdressing, Guns, Homophobia, I'd say period typical, Not Canon Compliant, Sexism, buddy fic, but it's more 'area' typical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsometabbyc/pseuds/handsometabbyc
Summary: Rooster Sweets (aka Little Enos), a shady personal investigator who crossdresses in his spare time, crosses paths with a rich Texan man. Both are gun nuts and end end up making a bet about whose the better shot, though Rooster cons him into believing he's worse then he actually is....Or if Big and Little Enos weren't father and son and met on different circumstances. Takes place few years before the first movie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quick fic exploring pointless obscurity. Sure it’s based on an (arguably) popular classic movie, but the fic itself is mainly inspired from the third movie (which is arguably the worst, but I've always thought it was stupid fun)
> 
> ...Also I might've borrowed the name Rooster from the practically non existent TV movie staring the two actors who played Big and Little Enos. (To paraphrase Elton John: 'Because I liked the name')
> 
> Carrie is in this too simply because a needed a friend character. It probably isn't very cannon compliant but really most of this isn't.

**Las Vegas, 1974**

"Why does everybody have to be so despicable?" Rooster said with dismay as he attempted to mount a barstool, succeeding the second time. The bartender watched with amusement, partially because he was a bit restricted by the sequin spangled bob mackie knock off he wasn't quite used to yet he'd paired with match pumps, clutch, and a Farrah Fawcett wig.

"Tough day?" The bartender commented. Carrie, a good natured but no shit taking brunette. They'd met a couple years ago on one of the occasions she managed to get work in her preferred profession as a dancer. She'd got him out of a tight spot at the time and they'd stayed in touch ever since.

“I’ll have a scotch.” He simply answered, setting down the large gold clutch that landed with a suspicious ‘ _Thunk’_ on the bar.

“Don’t you want something more ladylike?” She cracked while serving him, and he gave her a withering expression.

“Woman drink scotch.” He said defensively. “I just look damn good and you’re jealous.”

“Right: jealous, that's the word I'd used.” She brushed off, though felt a little guilty for the comment, so add: “So why'd you get all dolled up tonight? Something got you down?”

“Ah, just an adultery case, they’re always so depressing. Why can they ever _not_ be cheating?” He lamented. “So, you know...thought I’d treat myself to something gaudy.”

“Okay, but I gotta say as much as I love watching you go full Rooster and whip out that piece out on another asshole and hollering ‘Say that again you son of bitch, call me that again to my face’ the owner says if you do it again he’s going to kick you out.”

“Fine, I’ll be good.” Rooster said begrudgingly. “They used to not even be able to tell. God, I hate getting older.”

“Tell me about it.” A large man down the bar quipped, and Rooster looked over at him questioningly.

“Excuse me?” Rooster said dryly.

“I was just agreeing, getting older sucks.” He said. “Though I suppose it would be a little suckier in the case of…well, whatever your deal is.”

“I like to look pretty sometimes.” He said defensively, lifting the clutch. “And I might not be allowed to take out this here gun but I can still give a good clobberin’ with it, plus these beads and rhinestones’ll cut you up something mighty fierce so you best watch your tongue.”

“You can’t do that either.” Carrie pointed out. “Though I suppose that depends on what he was about to say.” she added as an after thought, giving the man a bit of a stink eye.

“I wasn’t going to say anything. Who am I to judge?” The man said as he moved a couple of seats closer. “I’m a little curious, what she mean by full on Rooster though, is that a variation of the expression full cocked?”

"Oh, naw..." He chuckled. "Its my name. Rooster, Rooster Sweets."

“It suits you.” The man said with amusement, tipping his drink at him.

Rooster groaned, wincing. “Look, buddy..."

"The names Enos, but everyone calls me Big Enos."

"Well uh, 'Big Enos,' it's flattering but you look like my daddy and while some people are into that shit it creeps me the hell out.”

"What? I beg your pardon..." Big Enos said loudly, face turning red, and Rooster giggled nervously.

"Oh fuck...so sorry, it just...in my experience if guys aren't hurling derogatory remarks it usually means..." He laughed again, trailing off.

“ I don't swing that way, I’m from Texas.” The man insisted.

“What, they don't make 'em like that down there?” Rooster quipped, recovering from his embarrassment.

"Well...I suppose that's a good point." The big guy said gruffly. "But me, I'm straight as an arrow you know?"

"I'm like that most of the time, but I've been known to lean in the other direction."

“Right.” He said uncomfortably, quickly changing the subject. “What you got there, some mother of pearl handled pea shooter?”

“You wish bud. 9mm glock, just like the police use.”

“Little bigshot with a gun. I bet he can’t even really use that thing, can he?" He said to Carrie, who laughed.

"I've always thought he was all talk, cocky little bastard." She said, earning a scathing look from Rooster.

“Alright.” Rooster said with a shrug.

“Alright what?”

“Let's bet. Five hundred says you can’t outshoot me. There’s a shooting range not too far from here, I’ll meet you there tomorrow at five.”

“Make it three, I have work tomorrow and I wanna see this.” Carrie said.

“Alright, your on punk.” Enos said. Carrie gives him a critical look and he looks back at her innocently as he finished off his drink.

“Well now you know for sure he’s straight.” Carrie commented, when the guy got up to talk up some woman at one of the tables and Roster scoffed.

“I know, but at least he didn't insult me.” He said.

“As usual you failed to mention the fact that you used to be a cop.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, or at least in won’t put a fat cat like himself too far behind.” Rooster said.

“Speaking of which, we need to discuss my cut."

"Ten percent, like last time." He said without a second thought.

"Twenty, my 'rate' went up." She quipped.

"And here i thought we were friend."

"Not that much of a friend. You know the drill Rooster, I undersell you so they get over confident and easier to fleece."

He sighed, relenting. "Fine, twenty."

"I don't know why you keep insisting on doing this, one of these days it's going to get you into trouble."

"He's clearly an out of towner, how much trouble can he be?" Rooster dismissed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I'm not sure how you got here, but sure do I appreciate it. (not finished, will update)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to jump in and update this, excuse any typos (which I'll no doubt notice later and get embarrassed about)

There was a urgent knocking on Carrie’s door the next afternoon.

“I’m coming!” She called, checking the key hole before opening the door to a distressed looking Rooster dressed in street clothes and a five o’clock shadow, completing the 'look' with shoulder holster and glock under his arm.

“Jesus…” She commented. “What’s up with you?”

“I’ve screwed the pooch, that’s what.” He said miserably.

“You knock up another stripper?” She said tiredly.

“I didn’t mean literally, and don’t talk about Joanne like that, she’s decent broad.” He lit a cigarette before continuing: “Remember that big fat Texas fuck I was talkin’ to last night?”

“You really have a way with words Rooster.” She commented wryly.

“Oh fuck off.” He said.

“Yeah, the one you made the bet with. What about him?” She smirked. “Let me guess, he’s not just some rich dumb gambling tourist. Then who is he?”

Rooster groaned with reluctance. “…You know that joint, the showboat?”

“Yeah?”

“The motherfucker owns it.” He said with a hiss. “Granted he just brought it, that’s why I didn’t know, but still, good god. Got my head so far up my ass with my clients I didn’t know I was talking to a local big shot who may or may not have mob affiliations.”

"Mob affiliations?"

"That's what I hear anyway."

“Lucky you.” She said.

“Must you be so cavalier?” He snapped.

“Hey, what have I always said, your cockiness is gonna bit you in the ass one of these days.”

“Yeah laugh it up, but we need to figure out what I’m gonna do.”

“What’s this we?” She said.

“Oh what, little miss ‘twenty percent’ isn’t liable now huh?” He said. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t  beat him with fly colors and I can’t throw the game least I have to fork over  money I don’t have.”

“So throw it a little then. Win but make it look like a challenge.”

He thought for a second and shrugged. “I suppose that could work...so you wanna take my car?"

"If you can drop me off back here, then sure." She said as they started to leave. As an afterthought she asked:  “…Do you want to freshen up or something?”

“Why?” He asked.

“You look like you did back in your cop days.” She said and he chuckled.

“Would you believe me if I said I was trying to be intimidating?” He said, putting on a pair of aviators as they stepped out into the desert sun, and she scoffed.

“You know that was never your strong suit right? It was…I don’t know, how do I say this without being rude?”

“What, being adorable?” He said.

“The opposite, Unintimidating. People felt like they could talk to you when you weren’t being a cocky little fucker. It’s one of the main things that made you such a good detective.”

“…Do you think I was stupid for giving it up?” He asked reminiscently as they got into his car.

“You did what you thought you had to do, at the end of the day it’s your call.”

He sighed, grimacing. “I suppose so.”

\--

Big Texas was waiting for them when they got there, big red caddy sprawled out outside the range like a great dane.

“Would you look at that, looks like something you’d drive.” She cracked.

“I’d never drive anything that made it look like I was over compensating for anything.” He said just as Big stepped outside.

“Well as they say, everything’s bigger in Texas…Even if we have a big ass car.”  He noticed Carrie standing there and chuckled. “Woops, excuse my vulgarities miss.”

“Dancer, part time exotic dancer, also part time bartender, I’m used to it.” She said with a tight smile, trying to hide her annoyance and Rooster shot little smile her way behind Big’s back, Carrie never took to kindly to being treated like a fragile flower.

They were about to go inside when a car pulled up, a woman sticking her head out. “Carrie, Derek tried calling you.”

“Yeah, clearly I was out, what’s up?”

“Charlie hasn’t shown up for his shift, he was wondering if you pick it up.”

“Yeah, why not.” She turned to Rooster. “You’ll be fine, right?”

“Sure, I’ll catch you up later.”

“Remember, good but not too good,” she  added quietly before she left.

 “Sorry you lost your audience, she’s a good hag as far as they come.” He said later after they started and Rooster

“So what? She needs the money, and don’t call here that.” Rooster said as he put a pair of earmuffs back on and tried to concentrate on making his shot, or not quiet making it really.

“What would a fella like yourself call her?” As they took off the earmuffs again to speak.

“A friend, and what the hell do you mean a fella like me?” Rooster said.

“You know what I mean.” Big said. “We were talking about it last night.”

“I’m not a homo.” Rooster said. “I mean, I’m  not not one, as I said I like guys on occasion, but I don’t need no beard, or no hotshot from Texas insulting them even if they were.”

They resumed shooting again, Rooster finding is harder to keep ‘off mark’.

“Phew, your uh…you’re a bit better than I thought you’d be.”  Big said, sounding a little nervous.

“Look, if you want we can call it a draw.” Rooster said. “Your barely beating me as it is.”

“Not a chance, one more round alright, winner takes all?” Big said, giving Rooster a look that if he'd caught it he would've questioned what he said next. “By the way, how did you meet your friend?”

“She had a dancing gig, she was in a tight spot and I helped her out of it. And we’ve been friends ever since.”

“But have you been just friends though? She’s one fine piece of ass.”

Rooster looked at him with pursed lips, trying hard not to lose his cool. “…Well I was in drag at the time, so that sorta put a damper on that sorta thing happening. It wasn’t completely a lie, he’d still been a cop but she had been involved in a case of his

 He turned back, cocking his gun, not able to stop himself from adding: “And don’t fucking call her that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realize Little Enos could be interpreted as a little 'too PC' in this, especially for the era he's from, I choose to see it as him having a soft spot for woman and woman of a certain employment. It might be a reach on my part but it's just how I wanted to write him.
> 
> Of course, thanks for reading, and if you read this before and gave enough of a shit about it to check it out again after I updated, thank you double!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure where the inspiration to update this came from, but here it is...

“Well just like we agreed, one thousand dollars.” The big man said, doling out the money reluctantly. “Was sure you were going to lose your cool towards the end.”

“Ah, well…” Rooster laughed nervously. “Thing about me is I tend to be a better shot when I’m all hot under the collar.” Sure it was a lie, but not in the way he thought it was.

“Not the worst trait to have, wouldn’t want to catch you in a dark alley.”

 _Was that a threat? Better just laugh again_. “Ha, I guess not.”

“You know, I own the Showboat and every now and again I could use a fella like you.”

Not expecting that, he smiled as he tried to formulate an answer for that. “…That really isn’t my bag I’m afraid.”

Apparently that was the wrong answer because Enos balked at that. “Your turning me down? You best know that no one turns Big Enos down.” His tone was humorous, but there was still a dangerous undertone to the statement

He suppose he should’ve seen that coming. “It just seems like a risky position.”

\---

He didn’t know if that was the best choice in hindsight, but the best choice really would’ve been not to make the deal at all.

It had been about a week and he was pacing around his apartment when the phone rang.

“Hello?” He said.

_'Rooster, it’s Carrie, haven’t seen you at the bar in awhile.'_

“Oh what, can’t a guy lay off the booze?” He kidded.

_'I was just wondering if something happen with the casino guy.'_

He groaned. “Christ, maybe. Aren’t you fucking perceptive.”

_'Maybe, though mainly I'm assuming that because he showed up looking for you.'_

“And your telling me this now?!” He said in shocked outrage.

 _'It was just an hour ago, Jesus._ '

“Oh…It’s ten in the morning so I guess I assumed this happened at night. But on the other hand, an hour ago?!”

 _“I tried calling your office but you weren’t there, and I lost your home number._ ”

“Yeah I can't be at the office right now, I have to watch Natalie, her Ma had a last minute shift.” He grinned, leaning over the playpen which held the aforementioned Natalie, a chubby cheeked two year old with blond curls. “Which daddy doesn’t mind. No he doesn’t.”

 _“What’s ‘Daddy’ wearing?”_ Carrie quipped with what he could only assume was a smirk.

“Your full of it." Rooster said. "Though if you must know it's the Patsy Cline outfit, the one with the fringe you know?"

_'With the boots?'_

"Well you gotta have the boots at least, otherwise the look falls apart. But back to the point, did you see anyone with him? Did he seem angry?”

_'Should he have any reason to be angry? Aside from the obvious of course.'_

Rooster winced. “…I think he offered me a job as a hit-man and I might’ve turned him down?”

_“What do you mean you think?”_

“He was vague about it, but this was after I won the bet so one can assume it was related to shooting at people.”

 _'God dammit Rooster, what have I always told you?'_ Carrie said in alarm.

“I know I know, but fat lot I can do about it now.” He snapped back just as there was a heavy knocking on the door.

“Shit, gotta go.” Rooster said, hanging up the phone as Carrie’s tinny voice asked what was going one. He looked down at Natalie and it occurred to him it might not be the best idea to have her over in this situation. “…Be quiet while daddy deals with this alright?”

At the very least her playpen was in his bedroom so could shut the door before dealing with what was clearly Big Enos because he was barking at him through the front door now.

“I know you're in there you little shit!” He called.

“Yeah it’s my fucking apartment!” He hollered back at him, opening the chained door to Enos’s big red face. “What the hell are you doing here, and how do you know where I live?”

“I’m Big Enos, if I set my mind to it I can get anything I want.”  He said angrily, kicking the door and bursting through, and Rooster stumbled backwards.

“Oh god dammit.”  He said, reaching for his gun but Big Enos drew his first.

“Ha ha! To slow!” Enos said triumphantly.

“Look, Mr. Burdette, this is a really bad time-“ He started, hands raised.

“I don’t give a shit.” Big Enos said, booming voice not lowered with absence of the door between them. “You’re a lying cheating son ova bitch, or should I say Officer Sweets?”

“Been uh…snooping around huh?” He said nervously.

“I was trying to find you, given the fact I felt we weren’t done with our previous conversation. Upon further investigation, I learned you were more apt in the marksmanship field then you led on.”

“Now hold on, I didn’t mislead you about nothing, you just assumed-“

“You lied to me!” Big Enos boomed. “I’ll have you know Big Enos don’t take too kindly to being lied to!”

Natalie understandably started crying at that moment, and Big Enos looked up in surprise.

“What the hell, do you have kid in there?”

“I told you,” Rooster said carefully, hands still up. “This is a bad time, I was watching my daughter.”

“Oh…” He said, taken aback, voice regretful.

“So if you wouldn’t mind, could we put a pin in this until after her Ma gets off work at three and can pick her up?”

Big Enos, looking conflicted, relented and put the gun down. “You best be at the Showboat by five. And I’m sure you know well enough not to ghost.” Natalie was still crying, so he added: “Why don’t you uh…why don’t you deal with that.” He said as he left.

After that Rooster hurried to the room. “Hey, hey…” He said in a soft voice, scooping up Natalie, whose little face was balled up in confused fear. “It’s alright, the big scary man’s gone. He’s gone, everything’s okay now.”

As he said the words here cries died down, and Rooster found himself wishing he could believe the words himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who've been reading, thank you! Should post the final chapter soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so it turns out this isn't quite over yet, it ended up going longer then I would. (I could post one final 5000+ word chapter but it's just easier to post shorter for numerous reasons, so I split this sucker up)

He showed up to the Showboat a little before five, if Rooster was anything it was someone who prided himself in being punctual. He came early in fact just in case he had trouble finding Big Enos, but the man happened to be right on the casino floor, ‘amoungst the action’ one might say.

“Ah, your still wearing that.” He said, looking him over, and Rooster obliged him by looking down at himself, and laughed.

“Some shit happened at the kid's mother's work, I didn’t really have any time to change.” He smiled coyly. “Don’t like it?”

“I mean, of course I do, it’s a very good look, but that isn’t the point-“

He didn’t get to the point because one of his associates walked by, and upon seeing Rooster, laughed meanly and said: “This that faggot son of yours? Shore is a lot cuter then I remember him being, with the dress and fake tits and what not...”

Before the big man could answer that, Rooster whirled around, fury on his face.

“…Best watch your tongue mister, these tits may be ornamental but this gun sure ain’t.” He said, gesturing to the holstered gun at his hip. “And even if I weren’t armed I’d kick your ass so hard you’d eat boot, are we clear?”

The man looked at Big Enos, mouth agape.

“You heard him, watch yourself. And go along on your business.” He said, and the man hurried along.

“My office?” Big Enos  offered.

“That’d be great.” Rooster said with a tight smile.

“You didn’t have to do that you know.” Big Enos said on the elevator ride up to his top floor office. “Don’t get me wrong, I admire it something fierce, but it wasn’t about you.”

“ Maybe it wasn’t, but it also wasn’t not about me.” Rooster said with a shrug, looking straight ahead defiantly, missing the apprehensive look Big Enos was giving him.

\---

In his office, Rooster gazed out the window admiring the Las Vegas skyline. “Some god damn view you’ve got here.”

“How do you do that by the way?” Big Enos asked in what was what he could almost swear was wonderment. "...back there I mean."

“Lose it like an insufferable angry asshole? Short temper, to put it simply.”

“No I mean do it while you…you know, look like that.” He said.

Rooster laughed helplessly. “Don’t be so in awe, it’s just me being a dumbass. Granted, there’s part of me that feels like I’d be letting myself down if I didn’t, but one of these days…one of these days I’m gonna learn to pick my battles.”

“It’s brave.” Big Enos insisted. “Your this boisterous fucker whose unapologetically you no matter what it might cost.”

Not wanting to get into an argument about that, he counted with: “Who was that guy talkin’ about back there?”

“They were talking uh...talking about Ian.” He said, smiling sadly as he sat down.

"Is that you son?"

"Yeah, he's named after me but we ended up calling him Ian, as in it sounds like-"

"The first two letters of his name, right. Clever." Rooster acknowledged. Big Enos smiled fondly at the memory but the look quickly faded as if he'd forgotten reality for half a second.

"He looked a lot like you, when he was younger, when he was still around. Hence the confusion."

“What happened?” Rooster asked quietly.

“I uh…it came to my attention he was dating a boy and I didn’t handle the situation as well as I could have, especially since he was only nineteen at the time."

“You sound regretful.” Rooster turned back to the window, the situation uncomfortable but certainly not unfamiliar, he'd found himself consulting and consoling a good number of people both on his job as a police officer and a pi.

“I simmered down about it after a month, started realizin’: ‘Hey, he’s my son and I love the bastard. Not to mention I’m sure I’ve done worse, I really don’t have a right to hold it against him.’ …but by then he was long gone. Scared off. That was near six years ago, I haven’t talked to him since.”

“Have you tried?” Rooster said with a shrug. “Like I said, you sound pretty sincere in your remorse, and in the miserable business I work in I’ve seen a good number of couples make amends just based on remorse.”

“Those folks are dumbasses, once a cheater always a cheater.” Big Enos grumbled.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, when I say that I definitely think they are coo-coo bananas delusional. But my point is people can be receptive to apologies if they want to be. Hell, me and my Daddy ain’t talked in almost twice that long and if he reached out to me I’d certainly seriously consider forgiving the bastard.”

“See, that’s the thing, I have tried reaching out. Hired someone to find him for me and everything but he just wasn’t having it, refused to talk to me.”

“Oh…sorry about that.” Rooster said helplessly. The big man sat there silently for an uncomfortable amount of time, so Rooster added: “…By the way what about that other thing, do you want me to pay you back with interest or something?”

“What?” He looked up in confusion. “Oh…don’t worry about it. If I ever get married for a third time and need dirt on the spouse come divorce I’ll go to you.”

Rooster flashed him a strained smile. “Good to know.” He said, before leaving the office.

As he stepped out onto the casino ground floor, he felt like he could use a drink after that ordeal and when to the bar.

“I’m feelin' fancy, make me an old fashions why don'cha?” He said, as he slide over a couple of bills, to which the bartender refused to accept.

“Your money’s no good here.” He said, mixing and serving his drink.

“…Fine by me.” Rooster said, not really putting too much thought into it. Maybe the big guy was just being hospitable, and who was he to argue with that.

“So why are you in town?” the bartender asked.

“I’m always in town, just tend to lay low. Most of the time anyway, right now doesn’t count. I’m a private investigator so…anonymity pays.”

“How ‘bout that.” The bartender said with fascination. “What’s that like?”

“Oh it’s not that interesting, lotta keeping track of people, following people, finding people, going the extra mile the police won’t, that sort of thing. It’s a lot more boring then the movies. Way too many infidelity cases.”

“Cheating spouses you mean?”

“Oh yeah.” He said shaking his head. “It get’s so tedious, and half the time the client is almost as bad as the person they’re accusing. But there is times that make it worth it, once there was this guy who hadn’t seen his friend for decades, so he-“

“Excuse me?” A voice over his shoulder said.

Rooster turned to see the same fella who insulted him earlier.

“Sir…I can call you sir right?” He said nervously.

“You can call me Rooster.” Rooster answered simply, hoping off the stool, reaching for his drink and taking a sip.

“I’m so sorry for being so cavalier earlier, you seem like a perfectly decent person.”

“Mmm, yes cavalier. That’s how I’d describe it.”

 “Right, well see I was hoping you’d put in a good word for me with the boss about the incident.”

“Oh, right sure.” He said sarcastically, plucking the cherry on toothpick from his drink before throwing it in the man’s face with the flick of the wrist. He figured he’d never come back here and it was always something he always wanted to do.

“Little tip, ya fuck.” He said as the man stood there stunned and dripping. “Proceeding your apology with ‘aw I don’t wanna get in trouble with the boss’ demeans it considerably.”

“That’s not what I meant.” The man stammered out, and Rooster smiled sweetly, sliding the cherry off the pick with his teeth.

“Wasn’t it?” He said before turning back to the bar to grab the clutch just as the bartender was setting another drink at his place.

“What the hell is this?” He asked.

“A replacement for the drink you uh…spilled.” He said, winking.

“…Alright.” Rooster said, smile spreading on his face. “Let’s go with that.”

“Between you and me I never liked him.” The bartender murmured as he leaned in.

“Well, mind you it’s not something I’d normally do, but I figured what’ve I got to lose? Gonna get kicked out soon anyway.” Rooster dismissed

“I’m not sure what you mean.” The bartender said and rooster threw back his head and laughed as he slid back in his seat.

“I like you.” He said with a grin. “So back to what I was saying, this guy lost complete touch with this dude but it turned out he was just in the next city. Can you believe that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to note all of the gun stuff depicted in this is surprising more legal in Las Vegas then I thought it was initially. You can open carry, conceal carry (with a permit), and you can bring a gun in Casino. From what I understand the only thing you can't do is possess a gun while intoxicated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, *this* is the final chapter (I should stop saying something will be my final chapter, I keep underestimating how much I write and what aspects of the story I'll expand on)

After a drink Rooster went home and didn’t think much about the instance until man showed up to his office, looking more country then your standard Vegas fare

“I don’t know if you remember me, but I wanted to let you know it’s great to see you around again.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Rooster asked, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“You…you were just at the Showboat talking to your dad weren’t you?”

Rooster sat there for a second trying to piece together what he just heard. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I’m sorry, I’m not Enos Burdett Jr.”

“Yeah I know, your trying to stay on the down low and all and your not accually him,” He said, with emphasized winking. “But this is just between two old friends, you know?”

“Oh god you’ve got to be kidding me.” Rooster said.

He couldn’t deal with it just then because he had a client scheduled, but afterward he went straight to the Showboat.

“Rooster, well I’ll be, of what do I owe the pleasure-“ Big Enos started  when Rooster demanded that they talking wearing his usual ‘work clothes’, this one consisting of a paisley print shirt and tan slacks.

“Let’s cut the formalities why don’t we, why do people think I’m your son?” Rooster snapped. “Some so called ‘friend’ of his showed up so sure of himself I was him.”

“You do look a lot like he did five or so years ago…height wise anyway, you’re at least ten years older than him and you look it…no offense. So if you squint-“

“Why does he think it though?”

“Well, that’s your fault really, when you yelled at Bruce and afterward when I believe you hung around for a drink and threw said drink in his face.” Big Enos scoffed remenicently. “Love that by the way.”

“Oh my god everyone must’ve thought I was some spoiled brat, that’s so trashy.” Rooster groaned in realization. “But my point is, why didn’t you correct everyone?!?”

“I like having a son again?” Big Enos said with a shrug. “Alienating Ian, it’s just given me this unspoken edge of cruelness, it’s been nice not being a bit of a monster for once.”

“…Could you tell them?”

Big Enos winced. “I could, but don’t think I want to, like I said, it’s a nice change.”

“Right, great.” He said with bewilderment. “See ya.”

“You can hang around a bit here if you like.” He said hopefully.

It took Rooster a minute to grasp that statement. Christ rich fuckers were out of touch, not that he would mind having that problem but…god damn. “I’m not really in the mood right now.” He said, before leaving.

\---

Concerned it would become a problem to the point where it effected his business, he decided to go to some who might actually help him, the very person he was being mistaken for in fact.

It wasn’t hard to find Ian, in fact he was only a four hour drive away in Phoenix Arizona, working at post office of all places. If he’d looked like Rooster at some point that time was long gone, being a man on the slim side and a damn lot closer to six feet tall. He defiantly looked like his dad though, there was no doubt about that, down to the same face hidden behind a mustache.

“Box number?” He barked.

A-ha, I don’t actually have an account here.” He said sheepishly.

“Do you want an account here?” He asked boredom.

“Oh no, I don’t live here. See, I’m Rooster Sweets and in a bit of a pickle, I recently got acquainted with a man named Enos Burdette I believe you know him.”

“Oh god dammit not another one of you PI fuckers.” He groaned. “Look, I’ll tell you what I told the other guy: I appreciate the effort but I’m just not interested in some emotional reunion.”

“Yeah, that isn’t why I’m here.”

“Whatever it is Mr. Sweets I really don’t care.”

“…I’m here because people accidentally started believing I’m you.”

Ian tusked, apparently not expecting that. “We’ll that sounds like an interesting story at least, you can tell it to me over lunch.”

Lunch turned out to also include a latino man who went by the name ‘Tex’.

“I was under the impression it was just gonna be us.”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Tex said in a suggestive tone.

“Easy man.” Ian said to Tex before saying to Rooster: “I always have lunch with Tex.”

“Oh…well this is uh, sorta private, it specifically has to do with why you and your daddy don’t talk no more.”

“Jesus man, you have the subtlty of of a baseball bat. Aren’t you a private eye or something?” Tex asked.

“Well the bulk of my finances is earned off cheating spouse cases…and this in Vegas mind you.”

“Say no more.” he relented, taking a drink of his coffee. “But you can say whatever, given I’m the reason why they don’t talk no more.”

“Tex…” Ian said with dismay. “It ain’t your fault, it’s more complicated then that.”

“Can it be by fault?” Tex countered, and Ian just rolled his eyes.

“So um…you’re _that_ boyfriend huh? Six years, pretty impressive.” Rooster said, reluctant to go on.

“It’s great. But what happened with you?” Ian pressed.

“It’s a whole thing, so let me give you the abridged version since I’m sure you only have so much lunch hour: I make a bet with your dad, I mislead him, he gets mad, I go to the Showboat to hash it out but this nobody in a monkey suit mistakes me for you and he used a particular slur that’s a bit of a hair trigger for me. So naturally I tore the fucker a new one…but I might’ve forgotten to mention I wasn’t actually you.”

“…But you don’t even look like me.” Ian said, baffled.

“No sir, but keep in mind it’s been almost six year since these people last saw you.”

“You’re clearly pushing forty.”

“Hey! I’m not even thirty-five asshole. I think the defining factor here is your considerable growth spurt since then…plus I might’ve been in drag and wearing uh…” He waved his hand in front of his face. “A bit of makeup.”

“What, were you in the middle of a case?” Tex inquired and Rooster gave him a withering look.

“…I happen to wear it on my off time for my own enjoyment thank you.”

Tex held his hands up in defense. “I’m cool with that.”

Ian broke out into low laughter. “Oh god, I know I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s just so stupid funny.”

“...But anyway, now somehow everyone believes I’m you. I had this rando claiming to know you show up in my office just the other day. They don’t believe me when I tell them I’m not thanks to the fact they know I’m a PI and think I’m undercover using a fake identity nor will your dad tell the it’s not true.”

“That does sound like him, he’s never been one to back down easy from a lie.” Ian said nonchalantly. “What’s you point, why are you down here telling me all of this?”

“Well…I thought you’d be concerned people are mistaking me you for me and might wanna…I don’t know, come down and fix the situation.”

“Why the fuck would I want to that?” Ian said. “You’re just trying to get your own name back.”

“Why the fuck do you not want to go back?” Rooster shot back. “Your dad misses you, and aside from that one guy everybody seems to like you.” He scoffed, adding: “Hell, that guy came over to try to apologize after he saw how displeased he made your Daddy and I threw a drink in his face and no one seemed to care. I think they even liked it.”

“Sure, because that’s expectation Ian, half crazed wildcard who goes off at the drop of a hat. Tell me, what exactly did you bet about?”

“…Who was a better shot. Which was me, but see I’ve learned you can make a spot of money by ‘overselling’ yourself to rich out of town motherfuckers…which he wasn’t but I didn’t know that.”

“See? You’re a natural.” Ian said bitterly. “I tried to fake it, but I just couldn’t cut it. Hated it in fact, hated being boisterous and hated being in the middle of everything.”

“Whoa hold the phone…” Rooster interjected. “Is that why you haven’t come back? You didn’t want the attention?”

“Like I said it's complicated, but I suppose that’s part of it. So you know, it’s fine with me people think you me.”

“Yeah but it’s not fucking fine with me. I’m a humble PI, I can’t properly do my job if people think I’m some rich fuck's son, not to mention there isn’t any money in people believe that, I’m still an asshole who has to shop at thrift shops and take cases from people I despise to make sure my baby momma’s rent is paid.”

“You have a kid?” Tex said in surprise, and Rooster merely made a noise of disgust, waving it off.

“I’m sorry but it really isn’t my problem.” Ian said. “Ain’t that right Tex?”

Tex, who was formulating a thought, said: “…But what if he could?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rooster said. “I just said-“

“No, now stay with me for a second.” Tex insisted, repeating when Ian gave him a dubious look: “Just a second. See Ian, I know he was an asshole, but you do wanna be able to see your Dad again, and if Rooster here faked being you,for pay of course, it would detract attention away from you.”

“Would that really work?” Ian said with disbelief.

“He does look a lot like his Daddy.” Rooster said.

“So we could just tell people you’re a nephew or something.” He smiled helplessly.

Ian considered him for a second. “You ain’t taking my name. I don’t know how cool I am with that.”

“Oh I’ve been telling people to call me rooster, so that’s fine.”

“Well I don’t know about that either. We really want to sell it after all.” Tex countered.

“You know what, I think we’re getting too far ahead of ourselves, how we know he really wants me back? No, we’ll uh…pay the man a visit.”

\---

“My boy! Oh I can’t believe how much you’ve grown!’ Big Enos said, having taken Ian in a second bear hug in five minutes.

“Dad, stop it…” Ian grumbled, though he sounded pleased.

“I can’t help it, I’m just so happy to see you.”  He said stepping away. “And don’t you worry, there’s a little confusion knocking around about you but I can straighten that out real quick.

“Actually,” Tex chimed in. “We were thinking of a different approach. This one here would pretend to be your son while we just…stayed out of the limelight you know.”

“People are weirdly certain that I’m him.” Rooster pointed out.”

“The only problem I have with the whole thing is him using my name.”

“Well we would want to sell it.” Big Enos contemplated. “…What about Little Enos?”

“Little Enos? Really?” Ian said with dismay.

“Think about it, it’s something you’ve never gone by, and he does sorta look like a miniature version of me. Maybe milk it with mustache and a suit, people back in Texas would get a kick out of that-“

“Wait, would that mean I’d have to move to Texas? I’d like to remind you I have a daughter here.”

“I guess that’s a good point. Well we’ll see, maybe you can make appearances, but money does have a way of persuading people.”

\---

He did end up uprooting to Texas sooner then expected, it turned out his baby momma had family in that area anyway.

“Guess she’s as sick of this goddamn place as me.” He said to Carrie, having dropped by the bar for an honorary last drink.

“Can’t say I blame you, this place is the pits.”

He laughed a bit at that, then started. “Oh! Almost forget…” He wrangled an envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the bar. “For you.”

She opened it, eyebrows going up in surprise. “Jesus.”

“Think of it as tip.” He said with a shrug.

“Well that’s some tip. That new job must be profitable.”

“Turns out being the caricature of an asshole son is indeed quite profitable.”

“And that works? Didn’t you say the real son is there all the time now?”

“Yeah, funniest fucking thing. The big guy recently fired this asshole in his inner circle so Ian’s doing his job now and talking to people he did on a regular basis six years ago and they don’t have a fucking clue. Like, somehow the idea of what he should be overshadowed who he really is.”

“And that is?” She inquired.

“…One of the most stuck up, uptight motherfuckers I’ve ever met.” Rooster said. “But he gets the job done, so at least he’s got that going for him.”

“Well in that case I’m sure you two will get along just fine.” She said dryly, and he laughed, shaking his head as he finished off his drink.

“You know, I’m gonna miss you something fierce Carrie.” He said, hoping off the barstool. “Don’t get stuck here, alright?”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t.” She said, and Rooster shot an amused look over his shoulder before stepping out into a full moon night and taking one last stroll back to his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, a please do Kudo if you liked it! Still not sure why I wrote this, but it's all out there now and I don't have to worry about finishing it. (I did enjoy writing it but I have way too many unfinished fics)


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